


Finding Me (And You) Along the Way

by pherryt



Series: Winterhawk Bingo Round 2 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers still exist, Canon Divergent, Clint's just not on the team but he's still good friends with everyone on it, Fluff, Journal, M/M, Memories, Minor Steve/Sam - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Nerd!Bucky, Pining, References to nightmares, Soft Boys, Soft!Bucky, Sort Of, Soulmates, Supportive!Clint, Telepathy, Traveling the world, artist!Bucky, but really it's mostly fluff, deaf!Clint, finding yourself, globetrotting, post winter soldier, references to past abuse, retired!clint, scarf, soulmate miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: When Clint retired - pre-Loki, pre-Avengers - he'd never expected that his leisurely world tour might be joined a couple years later by Captain America's best friend. A best friend who'd gone through things nobody should ever have had to go through and was just trying to find himself again.Even if Clint hadn't already promised Steve to keep an eye outforBucky, he'd have caved in the direction of helping. There was just something about him...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: Winterhawk Bingo Round 2 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890343
Comments: 30
Kudos: 90
Collections: Reverse Prompt Challenge, Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	1. Clint

**Author's Note:**

> It took me AGES it feels like to put this together - it's for both the Reverse Prompt Challenge "Around the World" and for my Winterhawk Bingo Round 2 Square - I4: Soulmate Miscommunication
> 
> Type of Soulmate format suggested by an awesome Vexbatch and beta'd by an equally awesome hopelessly_me! thank you again, guys!

  


When Clint had retired, the expectation probably had been that he would have gone somewhere remote, quiet, in the middle of nowhere where no one would expect to find an ex-spy. It was certainly what Fury and Tash and Phil had suggested.

But the joke was on them.

From a young age, Clint had always moved around. He’d tried the settling down bit, between the circus and SHIELD, and it hadn’t worked out. His soul was far too restless for that. Sure, it might have been  _ safer _ to do what had been expected of him, but Clint had never taken the safer option before, so why start now?

He wanted to see the world. And not the way a spy saw it. He wanted to be able to  _ enjoy  _ it, too.

And, y’know, he was  _ never  _ gonna find his soulmate if he hid himself away. Okay, sure, he knew that by this point, the odds of finding his soulmate was pretty freaking nil  _ but _ … well, if he fell off the face of the planet, it’d be damn right impossible.

Being retired meant he missed it when the Avengers formed, when the city that was the closest thing he had to call home was attacked. Instead, he was halfway across the globe, snapping pictures of architecture in Italy.

And it wasn’t like he had his head in the sand, but he was out. There was no way he was going back in. He was only one person anyway, not really all that pivotal.

Though Natasha liked to argue the point. But Tash  _ was  _ special, and for some reason, Clint hadn’t been able to convince her of that.

If they’d been soulmates, that would have been easy. Touch Telepathy was a thing for soulmates. And the stronger the bond, the longer they were around each other, even short distance telepathy was possible.

Some of the best agents were soulmate pairs. Clint had once wished he and Tash were, but he’d come to accept that it would have been an absolute mistake. She was the sister he’d never had and closer to him than anybody had ever been –

But soulmates they were not.

He was still on a plane back to the states in less than 24 hours when he realized Tash had been in the thick of things and wasn’t answering his calls.

* * *

Clint was still traveling the globe a couple of years later when Tash texted him a warning about SHIELD. He was in England, looking at castles when it came through.

Fuck, but he was glad he wasn’t working for them anymore.

But he did feel bad about not having Natasha’s back.

Just like last time, though, getting a flight straight to Tasha was nigh impossible. There were no flights going in or out of DC, so Clint had to find the next nearest airport available and then rent a car to reach her.

It still took him a few days, and by that time, everything was over: SHIELD was in flames, Steve was out of the hospital and the Winter Soldier was in the wind.

And the Winter Soldier was, drum roll please, Steve’s dead best friend.

Huh.

Clint had  _ not  _ seen that coming.

And then Steve looked at him with puppy dog eyes – and, okay, he wasn’t a member of the Avengers, but Tash  _ was  _ and he’d gotten to know Steve, Tony, Thor and Bruce in the years since and he liked to think they were friends.

And Clint was having a real hard time saying no to Steve.

“How do you know there’s even anything left to save?” Clint asked, because he’d seen what people could be turned into when he was an agent. He’d seen traumatized kids and adults alike and few of them had been able to return to a normal life afterward.

He should know.

“He pulled me from the river. His orders were to kill me, Clint, and he not only didn’t, he saved me,” Steve said earnestly. “He’s still in there somewhere. He’s probably so lost, so confused. I just want to help him.”

“You’re not going to find him,” Clint said, trying to let Steve down gently.

“Why not?”

But Clint couldn’t put it into words, how certain he’d be that if it were him in Bucky’s place, if he had to face up to the things he’d done – he’d run.

In the end, he caved. He promised he’d keep an eye out for Bucky on his travels, but he wouldn’t travel with Steve.

“No offense, but you’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop,” Clint pointed out. “If he’s in hiding, you lookin’ is only gonna make him go to ground even harder. Me, though? He won’t know me from Adam. I’ve been out of the game for ages. You beat the bushes and send him running, and with any luck, he’ll come running in my direction.”

Steve, eventually, agreed to Clint’s plan.

* * *

Regardless of his retirement status, Clint  _ did  _ look.

He just hadn’t expected to  _ succeed. _

“Well, fuck me sideways,” he blurted as he came face to face with one wide eyed Bucky Barnes while backpacking through Romania, the other man looking for all the world like he was about to bolt.

Barnes twitched, his eyes darted and Clint  _ knew  _ the man was about to take off and maybe it wasn’t the wisest idea, but something in Clint panicked at the thought. He reached out to grab his arm before realizing just what a bad idea that was and he let go, raising them instead.

Luckily for him, Barnes had frozen instead of reacting which… okay, that wasn’t very good survival instincts right there. What if Clint had been HYDRA?

“Whoa! Uh, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to!” Clint babbled, wincing internally at himself. “Look, I know who you are, but please don’t run. I promise, I’m not HYDRA  _ or  _ SHIELD, but maybe we can… talk? Over…” Clint looked around desperately for inspiration, finding a little café not too far away. “Coffee? Just long enough I can tell Steve you’re okay?”

“Steve?” Barnes’s voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in who knew how long. “He’s… he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, managing to calm himself enough to talk levelly. “I can tell you how he’s doing? If you want?” Clint nodded back at the café. “Just a drink and some conversation. Promise.”

Barnes looked at him and, honestly, Clint wasn’t sure why he hadn’t already taken off, but he’d take it. As long as that instinct didn’t get Barnes in trouble at some point when it  _ wasn’t  _ Clint he was facing. Finally, Barnes nodded and Clint nearly sagged in relief before leading the way across the street and taking a table.

Soon enough, there was coffee and even pastries between them and while Barnes was literally on the edge of his seat, he was still there, not running.  _ Progress! _

“So, I’m Clint. Clint Barton. Retired for a few years now, but I still know a few folks. That’s how I know Steve. My ex-partner works with him. He’s uh, he’s worried about you,” Clint said.

“Worried about  _ me _ ?” Barnes shook his head. “I almost killed him.”

“You also saved him,” Clint said, waving it off. “And as I understand it, the whole Winter Soldier thing – really not your fault. How you holding up, now that you’ve gotten away? You need anything?”

Barnes stared at him, his hands – both gloved,  _ smart,  _ Clint thought – wrapped around the mug, as if taking comfort in the warmth of it.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, peeking up at Clint warily from under the cap on his head. “You taking me in?”

“Nah,” Clint said, stretching out his legs and propping them up on a third chair, situated between them. His foot brushed against Barnes’s leg as he did so. Barnes didn’t flinch away so Clint left it. He knew what being touch starved was like, and Barnes probably was the poster definition of touch starved. “You want to come back? Sure, I can get you there safely. But if you’re not ready, I won’t force you.”

“But Steve –“ Barnes looked at him in disbelief.

Clint snorted. “Steve gets no say in this. It’s your life. You do. But he  _ is  _ worried, so I can at least put his mind to rest. You got a phone? I can give you my number and his. When you’re ready or if you need us…”

Barnes shook his head, finally raising the mug to his lips and taking a sip. Clint let the silence be, enjoying his own coffee and the pastries. A cool breeze riffled through the streets, tugging at the strands of hair Barnes had tied and tucked back. Clint took the silence as they ate as time to give him a good, surreptitious looking over. 

He was tired, the circles under his eyes proving that. And if he also had a serum, or something serum like, then he was probably fucking exhausted for those circles to exist to that extent. And Clint couldn’t  _ quite _ tell, what with all the layers on him, but he thought Barnes was looking a little gaunt, too, at least from the shape of his face. Super Soldier metabolism. Right. Chalk another mark in the ‘probably got a serum’ theory. Not that Clint knew Steve as intimately as Steve’s actual team did, but he’d spent enough time around Tasha after she joined the Avengers to see Steve eating like a horse to keep up. Barnes probably wasn’t getting enough to eat, running himself ragged trying to stay one step ahead of everyone looking for him and not feeling safe enough to rest.

Clint slouched back in his seat, continuing to watch as Barnes nervously picked at his food, watched as it disappeared, leaving no crumbs, and saw the slightly disappointed look when there wasn’t more to be had. Clint turned to wave at a waitress to order more and Barnes spoke.

“Won’t do any good anyway. Steve's out there looking for me and he's not gonna stop. He’s a stubborn punk, even for a Rogers. Always was.”

“Yeah, he is, and no he's probably not,” Clint agreed. Barnes gave him a wounded, betrayed look which – yeah, fair. Clint had just been assuring him that he could get Steve off his back. And he could, he just - “Because he doesn't know you're safe. He doesn't know you're still alive, that you got away and that you're piecing yourself back together. But he will stop, when he can rest easy.”

Clint tapped his empty mug, musing a bit. “Look, you're not ready to go back, and I got nowhere in particular I gotta be. I could tell Steve I'll keep an eye on you? If you didn’t mind a little company, and someone to watch your back?”

“I thought you were out? Retired?” Barnes’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Honestly, Clint still couldn’t believe the man hadn’t taken off running as soon as he realized Clint knew who he was. This was probably a stretch, his offer, and yet, he’d still made it.

“So are you, so lets make sure we both stay that way?”


	2. Bucky

The last thing Bucky had expected while on the run and trying to avoid Steve, Hydra and pretty much the whole world –

Was to be sitting across a table facing his soulmate, as cool as you please, as if Bucky’s world wasn’t reshaping itself around him, again.

At least, Bucky  _ thought  _ Barton was his soulmate. When Barton had grabbed him, in that instant before he let go, Bucky’s brain – far too empty still, no matter how hard he’d been trying to remember - had filled with images and thoughts not his own. With emotions he knew hadn’t been his.

The sincerity that had poured off the other man was, ultimately, what had led Bucky to not only stay, but to agree to talk.

But by all appearances, Barton himself had not reacted. Well, that made sense, Bucky supposed. He was broken and any soulmate he should have had would likely be long dead, so this – whatever it was – had just been a glitch.

Maybe it had been wishful thinking.

And yet, Bucky felt a part of himself relax as Barton stretched his legs out and bumped them together. The immediate flood of  _ something  _ into his all too empty, all too quiet mind was a relief. The whole reason he wasn’t hiding out in a cabin in the woods even though it would be  _ safer _ was because he couldn’t stand the emptiness in his own mind.

And at least being around people, being in the comfort of a city with all its noise and bustle –

It helped.

Though it shouldn’t be possible to hear Barton’s thoughts – not when they hadn’t even touched skin to skin. It  _ must  _ be his imagination… could he even trust his own mind anymore? They couldn’t be soulmates. They couldn’t. Therefore, Bucky wasn’t hearing his thoughts. Wasn’t feeling his emotions.

And yet…

He let his leg lean against Barton’s foot, listened to him chatter, felt nothing but good humor, some concern and good intentions from him. Nothing bad, nothing underhanded, no lies. Barton was, simply, exactly who he claimed to be.

“- and get a good night’s rest, cause buddy, you look like you could use it.”

Bucky just stared, uncertain what to say, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to stay with Barton, to follow him wherever.

Barton blinked under Bucky’s unwavering stare and started to fidget. “What, is there something on my face?”

Looking away, then down, Bucky blinked when he realized there was more food in front of him. And something a bit more substantial than the pastries they’d started with. He picked up the spoon and stirred the thick soup as he shook his head.

“No, I just… you don’t know me, can’t understand what I’ve been through. Why would you want to stick around unless you have an ulterior motive?

“The only ulterior motive I have is to stop Steve giving me puppy dog eyes,” Clint groaned.

“He still turning those things on folks?” Bucky asked. 

“They’re a certified weapon,” Clint said with a wry little grin. “You ever able to say no to them?”

“Not that I can recall, but then…” Bucky looked down glumly at his soup, good mood evaporating. 

“Hey.” 

He felt Clint’s leg shift and bump against his own and understanding flowed into him. 

“Hey, it’s okay. These things take time,” Clint said softly. There was a hint of pain in his voice, and it was an undercurrent to the understanding Bucky could  _ feel.  _ “I mean, I don’t quite have the same experience as you, but I’ve had a few bad knocks, enough that I couldn’t remember my own name for a few days, much less anything else. Gave it some time, some space, it all came back.”

With a short laugh, Clint said, “Some of it I wished I  _ didn’t  _ remember but, it is what it is.”

Bucky mulled that over, eating his soup more slowly than he had the pastries. It was thick, warm and filling, and it was soothing something inside him, tickling the edges of his mind. Bits and pieces that pricked and promised to come up and envelop him, but with an edge of warmness rather than the nightmare coldness of many of the other memories that had been trickling back to him.

“I don’t think I want to remember everything,” Bucky said. “I wish… I wish I could pick and choose. I don’t want to remember my time with… but before that, the person I was before that. I want to remember  _ him. _ ”

Clint smiled encouragingly. “I think you’re doing pretty good so far. ‘Course, i’m probably not a good gauge of what you were like before but… i think that's better for you anyway. Gives you the space to remember and adjust rather than worry that you’re not immediately the person Steve remembers.”

Bucky thought about that too and found it comforting. 

Tentatively, he returned Clint’s smile.

* * *

Somehow, without quite remembering actually coming to any sort of agreement, they left the cafe together. He and Clint wandered the streets, occasionally ducking into this or that shop. Bucky was left twitchy, but unwilling to walk away from Clint. Clint made the walk casual, but somehow, Bucky knew he was no less alert.

At one little shop, they found Bucky a basic phone, in which Clint automatically pulled the chip out, replaced it with another and programmed exactly three numbers into it, which was one more than Bucky had expected.

“In case we run into trouble, if something happens to me and you need help, you’ll want to call Tash,” Clint had offered by way of an explanation. Bucky, at a loss, the name sounding vaguely familiar, had only nodded.

At another store, a couple of books, a journal and a pen had made their way into his bag. Still another yielded a nicer jacket, soft leather and warm. He tried to protest but Clint had insisted.

“You’ve gone, what, 70 years without nice things? Live a little and treat yourself, it’s allowed,” Clint said. Bucky got the impression that it was advice Clint had earned through his own experiences, and it made Bucky feel protective, all of a sudden, in a way he hadn’t since the war.

Clint's continued presence was as confusing as much as it was wanted. Bucky could no more walk away from Clint than he could have stopped Steve from joining the army. As in, it was physically impossible. He wanted to believe it was because they were soulmates, but Clint never made any indication that they were and there was still the fact that it should be impossible. 

Any soulmate Bucky should have had would have been long dead. He was sure of it.

Wasn’t he?

Days passed in Clint’s company, and with Bucky staying in nicer places than he had been. They didn’t stay in one place longer than two or three days at a time, moving from town to town. Clint sometimes looked like he wanted to stay a little longer, but Bucky didn’t feel safe enough to stay longer than that. The whole while Clint talked and chattered about where they were, brought Bucky to stores, took Bucky sightseeing with him and Bucky…

Bucky gazed about in wonder wherever they went, fascinated by the sights and the tidbits that Clint knew. He’d always wanted to travel. That fact had come to him about a week into this, whatever it was, with Clint. He started detailing things about their journey, and some of the things Clint told him, even making little doodles occasionally of the architecture, or random other little bits of things around them. Steve had always been the artist, but Bucky had had a tiny bit of that spark in him too and, as he chronicled their journey, that spark seemed to grow.

Memories also dotted the journal and soon, one journal turned into two, turned into three, then four. His book collection seemed to grow too, him and Clint sharing them as they went. Bucky learned that he could speak over 11 languages, despite not remembering that he  _ could _ , and it made him wonder how many others he still had up his sleeve.

It wasn’t all a bed of roses, of course. Bucky was still twitchy whenever anyone other than Clint got too close and the only times he truly relaxed was when they’d turned in for the night. And then it was hit or miss on whether or not a nightmare followed him into sleep.

But despite that, he  _ was  _ better rested then he had been in months. Memories had come back to him, mostly, and he was feeling more and more like his old self every day.

He was still afraid to trust, still afraid of HYDRA, still guilty of the things that he had done, and all those things had  _ changed  _ him, but he was remembering more and more of the Bucky he’d once been. Which made it harder, sometimes, when he realized there were parts of that Bucky he’d never be again.

“It’s okay to change, you know,” Clint said idly one day, as they walked through a market stall filled with brightly patterned fabrics. “With or without HYDRA, with or without the war, the person you were would still have changed. I’m not the same person I was 5 years ago, 10 years ago. Hell, 20 years ago. And I have some bad shit in my past too. So does Tash, way more than me, but she’s one of the best people I know. But don’t tell her that, it’ll only embarrass her.”

Clint kept telling him these things. It was okay to like nice things, to have things just for yourself. It was okay to not want to do things, to say no. It was okay to run away from Steve till he was ready. It was okay to treat yourself. It was okay to change who you were.

“I don’t want to be who they changed me into,” Bucky said, his hand reaching out hesitantly to feel the silky smoothness of the yellow gold scarf with blue markings that had caught his eye. He glanced guiltily at the proprietor of the stall for daring to touch the fabric, but they only smiled encouragingly and gestured that he should try it on, pointing at a mirror.

“You aren’t. You haven’t been since you dragged Steve out of that river,” Clint said calmly. “You’re your own person. A little broken, sure, but most of us have been, to one degree or another. But you’ve been pulling yourself back together, better than other folks I know. You should be real proud of yourself. I know Steve is, and I am too, but that won’t mean much, unless you believe it yourself.”

Except, that Bucky  _ could  _ feel it, that Clint was proud of him, in awe even. This thing between them grew only stronger and yet it seemed to still be one sided. Could Clint not feel how Bucky had come to care for him? Could Clint not ‘hear’ the nightmares in Bucky’s head?

Not that he wished Clint to hear them, to see them, but it wasn’t that long ago that Bucky had become privy to Clint’s. Something in their travels would trigger it, and he would do a good job hiding it when he was awake, but when Clint was sleeping -

He was wide open.

He felt young Clint’s terror at an abusive father. Felt the desperation that led to Clint and his brother running away to join a circus. Felt the betrayal when Barney and the circus had turned on him, the despair when he’d lost most of his hearing - and on and on it went.

Sometimes Clint talked about it. Enough that Bucky knew what he was seeing was real, but it was rare, offered up in exchange whenever Bucky trusted Clint with something of his own.

It was precious, because Bucky also knew these were parts of Clint he  _ didn’t  _ share with others. 

“You should get that,” Clint said suddenly. “I think it suits your eyes.”

“It’s not exactly cold,” Bucky pointed out.

“It’s not the kind of scarf  _ meant  _ for the cold. Nice things, Buck. If you like it, get it.” 

He fingered the scarf again, then took a breath. 

He walked out with his new purchase wrapped around his neck and tucked inside his open jacket, Clint beaming at him, something warm and maybe even heated in his gaze.

Clint whistled. “You shape up real nice, once you let yourself wear what you  _ want  _ and you don’t hunch in on yourself, did you know that?”

Bucky blushed a little and looked away.

* * *

They’d been traveling together for a little over 5 months when Bucky finally gave Clint the okay to call Steve. 

It had been a strangely uneventful, yet completely packed five months. No run ins with HYDRA, though there’d been a few fist fights once or twice when someone had gotten a little too drunk and a little too brash, or that time someone had tried to mug them. That first time, Bucky had frozen, afraid of his instincts, instincts that had been taught to kill - but Clint had stepped up and defused the situation. Sometimes defusing meant words, and other times it was his own, well aimed punch.

And then Clint had found them a field to let Bucky shake it off, and then insisted on a bit of a spar. At first, Bucky had been afraid to, afraid - again - of what his instincts might do, but Clint proved himself more than capable and Bucky, slowly but surely had gained control over those instincts.

The next time there was a would be mugger, he didn’t freeze up, and he handled the situation easily, knowing Clint was there, just in case.

So. He was improving. And he felt  _ almost  _ ready to see Steve for the first time since the Potomac.

Bucky himself still hadn’t been brave enough for a call, but he’d occasionally texted him. At first, only short updates on how he was doing, but more usually he sent photos of the places they were going - once he’d been certain Steve was going to keep to Clint’s agreement and leave Bucky be.

When Clint got off the phone, he smiled at Bucky, and there was something sad there that Bucky couldn’t quite understand. “Tony’s sending one of his jets, one of the extremely fast ones. Should be here in a few hours. Plenty of time for one last trip around the park, pack our luggage and meet him at the private airfield.”

Unable to speak against the sudden worry that things were about to change in a way that Bucky couldn’t control, they packed first. Clint still had his backpack, and so did Bucky, but he’d added a small leather case, reminiscent of some older luggage bags he recalled from his childhood, and he’d latched on to it, something physical to have, to ground him a little. It was one they’d found used, in good condition, at a second hand store. It already had some travel stickers on it, a little old and faded, but he thought they added some character. So Bucky had taken to looking for more and adding them every place they went. 

It was getting pretty well covered.

Still, as much as he liked it, Bucky kept his expanding wardrobe in the case while his backpack kept his more personal items, like the journals. Just in case they ever needed to leave so fast something needed to be left behind. Clint, himself, also had a second case, but it was one he never opened and Bucky never asked.

He knew what it was anyway. He’d seen it in Clint’s mind.

It was a bow, and it was that which was  _ Clint’s  _ most prized possession.

As Clint had suggested, they’d gone for one last walk around the park of whatever city they’d found themself in this time. Bucky hadn’t actually paid attention, they moved around too often for that, but the gardens here were spectacular, with hidden statuary and little sidepaths and naturally formed nooks and pools. 

But he found himself unable to enjoy it completely. Worry about the upcoming meeting with Steve, confusion about his one sided bond with Clint, worry that going back to the states would mean no more Clint being around.

And there was also the fact that the longer they walked, the closer it came time to leave, the sadder Clint  _ felt. _

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s wrong? Is this not a good idea?” Bucky asked suddenly, coming to a stop. 

Clint stopped and turned, looking back at Bucky in confusion. “What? No! This is good for you!”

“Are you sure about that? You seem to have… reservations about this,” Bucky said carefully. He still wasn’t sure what this was all about, this seemingly one sided soulmate he had managed to get.

Brows furrowing, Clint’s head tilted as he stepped back towards Bucky. “What are you talking about?” he asked slowly.

Bucky flushed and ducked his head, his hand reaching up to fiddle with the ends of his scarf. “You’re… sad. Things will change, won’t they?”

“Things are allowed to change,” Clint said softly. His smile was also sad. “No matter what I want or what anyone else wants. If you want them to. And, not all change is bad. The Avengers, the tower, they can be a family and home for you and there’d be no place safer.”

“But, you’re not an Avenger. You… you don’t live at the tower. If we go there, will I ever see you again?” 

“Of course you will!” Clint said with forced joviality. “We’re friends, aren't we? And everyone else I care about is there too, so why wouldn’t you see me?”

Bucky shrugged. “You haven’t seemed too broken up about not going back in the last six months or so.”

“What, gonna miss seeing this handsome mug first thing everyday?” Clint asked. The smile was still forced, the sadness growing and yes, yes he would, actually.

“Yes,” Bucky said softly. He willed Clint to get it, for the soulmate thing to work both ways and yet… and yet Clint just stood there, looking as perplexed as a cat that had suddenly sprouted wings.

“You’ll change your mind when you see Steve again,” Clint said. “But don’t worry, I’ll stick around a while, promise.”

And that… would have to be enough, Bucky supposed.


	3. Clint

They arrived in plenty of time to catch the plane, only to find that Tony hadn’t just sent _ it _ over, he’d also sent it over  _ with Steve. _

Because of fucking course, Steve couldn’t wait a few more hours to see his soulmate, when Clint had been counting on those few last hours of having Bucky to himself before having to concede to the man who’d had first claim.

And wasn’t it just fucking peachy he’d gone and fallen in love with another man’s soulmate? Just his luck, really. Just like this was just his luck.

Steve stood at the top of the stairs leading into the plane, and Bucky was frozen beside Clint. Clint nudged Bucky’s shoulder, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. 

“You got this, remember? He’s what broke your conditioning when you didn’t even know who you were. You’re not going to hurt him, and he’s going to love you no matter what.” Because Bucky didn’t place his heart lightly, Clint thought, and there was no way he could love someone who would be so cruel to him as Bucky was afraid Steve would be. That was just nerves talking anyway. 

Bucky took a step forward, turned to look at Clint and Clint smiled as encouragingly as he could, giving him a nod. He let go of Bucky’s hand and stepped back, letting Bucky and Steve have their reunion in as much privacy as they could muster on an open tarmac.

The reunion took a lot less time than he thought it would, honestly. Bucky climbed the stairs and Steve enveloped Bucky in a hug that Bucky returned. There were tears, from both men, a few watery smiles, and Clint felt a wave of sad happiness wash over him. Finally, they broke apart and moved onto the plane proper, Bucky glancing back at Clint while Steve waved him forward.

Slowly, Clint also climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last, closer and closer to the moment he would have to admit that this time was over and Bucky had what he really deserved, which was everything, really. He hoped Steve was capable of giving Bucky that.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised when Steve wrapped him in a hug as soon as his feet cleared the last step. 

“Thank you, for helping him,” Steve said quietly.

Clint shrugged awkwardly. “Didn’t do much. He  _ wanted  _ to be helped.” 

“You were still there to give it to him when he wanted it,” Steve said earnestly. Clint just nodded, feeling guilty about the fact that Steve was thanking him for helping out Steve’s  _ soulmate _ when Clint had fallen in love with Bucky.

Maybe Clint  _ would  _ settle down after this. He no longer cared about finding his soulmate, because how could a soulmate ever compare with Bucky?

Tony’s plane proved to be comfy and roomy, despite being small, probably because it wasn’t built to house as many people per square inch as possible. Clint settled in on a couch by a window, kicking his feet up and leaving Bucky and Steve space to talk. He took his aides out to give them even more privacy and the plane took off. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

* * *

He didn’t expect to be woken up by Steve settling in beside him a few hours later, and he nervously wondered if he was going to be told off by Captain America. He stretched his arms groggily with a yawn, slipped his hearing aids back on and accepting the coffee Bucky handed him. 

He blinked at them as he sipped, taking in their faces, trying to gauge their moods. Steve was harder to tell, his face looking serious but maybe a little earnest. Bucky was far easier to read, Clint thought. He looked anxious and resigned. 

Clint squinted at them and swallowed the coffee. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Bucky,” Steve said.

A flash of panic ran through him, though Clint was long practiced in keeping such emotions off his face. He’d been wrong. Steve  _ was  _ going to warn him off Bucky, suspected his feelings somehow - 

“Uh… what about?” Clint asked, darting his eyes over to Bucky and back again. “I mean, Bucky’s right here, you can ask him anything you need -”

“Don’t need to, we’ve already been talking quite a lot. We’re almost at the tower,” Steve said.

“Oh, I slept that long?” Clint hummed it out, wondering if he could distract Steve from upcoming conversation. He took another sip of the coffee and wondered when it would do the job of jolting him awake enough to deal with this conversation without looking like a creep.

“You kinda needed it,” Bucky said quietly. “You sleep almost as bad as I do.”

Clint shrugged. “Nightmares. You know how it is.” Bucky nodded with a grimace. Clint knew Bucky still had nightmares, plenty of them. Sure had plenty of fodder for it too. Bucky had even opened up about them enough where some of Clint’s own nightmares had been invaded by Bucky’s. It… wasn’t pleasant.

“We were hoping you’d stay on at the tower, for a little while at least,” Steve said. “You’re pretty much Bucky’s anchor right now, which will help settle him in. You’re welcome to stay longer, of course, but I wouldn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want.”

Blinking at Steve, Clint considered the words. They weren’t near at all what he expected, which was a relief, and he welcomed the chance to be able to stay, because Bucky meant a lot to Clint and he didn’t want to just abandon him but - 

Why would Bucky need  _ him  _ around any more, when his soulmate was right there in front of him? Wouldn't Steve be the better choice on getting Bucky settled in, now that he was more himself and ready to face Steve?

Then Bucky quietly said, “Please,” and Clint couldn’t imagine saying no.

“Of course,” Clint said, watching a smile bloom over Bucky’s face, wiping away the nervousness he’d held. Steve beamed too, clapping Clint on the shoulder.

“Thanks, it means a lot - to both of us,” Steve said, reminding Clint once more that Steve was  _ there,  _ would  _ be  _ there in the tower too, because he was Bucky’s  _ soulmate. _

_ Fuck my life _ , Clint thought.  _ How do I get myself into this shit? _

* * *

When they landed on the top of the tower, Natasha and Sam were both waiting for them. Clint wondered where the others were, then figured it didn’t matter. Tasha whisked him away almost as soon as they landed and the last he saw of Bucky, he was greeting Sam while Steve looked on, beaming.

“You’ve been gone too long,” Tasha said as she led him to her apartments. Her guest room was permanently set aside for him and he stashed his bag and his bow before coming back out to curl up on the couch beside her. The tv flickered and he leaned into her.

“Missed you,” he muttered.

“You could have visited anytime,” she said.

“You know I couldn’t have done that,” he protested.

“Oh? Is Barnes that incapable of taking care of himself?”

Clint squirmed and didn’t answer.

“Or is there something else going on?”

Clint groaned. “Don’t tell Cap. Next thing you know he’ll be challenging me over Bucky’s honor or something, and I swear I never even made a move!”

Her fingers threaded through his hair. “Why would Steve do that?” her tone was actually perplexed enough that Clint straightened up, her fingers falling away.

“Uh...cause I had the indecency to fall in love with his soulmate? After orchestrating to keep them apart”

“Who said Bucky was his soulmate?” Tasha asked. 

“I mean… aren’t they?” For the first time since he’d met Bucky in that street in Romania, his certainty wavered.

“I think it would come as a surprise to both Steve _ and  _ Sam to find out Bucky’s his soulmate and not Sam,” Tasha said calmly.

Clint spluttered. “Wait, what?”

“Sam is Steve’s soulmate,” Tasha repeated slowly. “You thought Bucky was?”

“Well, I mean… why wouldn’t they be? From everything in the textbooks and the museum reels, they were as close as could be! And Steve was so desperate to find him, I just - and besides, Steve was born like, 50 years before Sam was -” No, he was  _ not  _ doing the math - “There’s no way they should have matched up. What if Steve had  _ died _ like a normal person? Then  _ Sam _ wouldn't have had a soulmate!”

“Not everyone gets one of those, you know,” she said softly. And Clint’s heart broke because there was a good possibility that Natasha didn’t have one, and at this point, things weren’t looking too good for him either.

Besides, what did it matter if he did find his soulmate? When he was in love with Bucky Fucking Barnes?

As if she knew what he was thinking - and maybe she did, they knew each other so well, that they never needed the mind touch a soulbond granted - Tasha shook her head. “This isn’t the end of the world, you know,” she said. “If you love him, and he isn’t Steve’s soulmate, then you should talk to him.”

Clint shook his own head, feeling more than a little morose. “If  _ Steve  _ can have a soulmate despite the accidental time traveling, then so could Bucky. I don’t want to stand in his way.”

“You don’t know that,” she said. “Steve and Bucky’s situations are unprecedented. Bucky may not even want to  _ find  _ his soulmate,  _ if _ he still has one. Not everyone goes with their soulmate if they’re lucky enough to find them. Choice is still important, and I'm sure it’s no less important to Bucky.”

“What are you trying to say, Tash?” Clint said, narrowing his eyes at her.

She sighed. “I’m saying, give it a chance. Talk to him. You might be surprised.”


	4. Bucky

Bucky loved Steve, don’t get him wrong, but he hadn’t been nearly as sanguine about meeting him face to face for the first time since their mutual dunking in the river as he’d pretended to be to Clint.

Which was to say, the day Steve nearly let Bucky kill him. Idiot.

But whatever. The idiotic, loyal, stupid, typical Steve Rogers action had knocked loose that one last bit in Bucky’s brain, that last little wall, crumbling it down just enough that Bucky had gone in after Steve. The urge to protect still so strong that even HYDRA's worst couldn’t completely erase it. 

Then he’d run, because he’d just tried to kill his only family. And he couldn’t face Steve - much less himself - after that realization, not until he could get better, not until he could remember himself and make sure he never did that again.

Because he would never have been able to live with himself if he’d actually succeeded.

But he hadn’t. So Bucky had tried to build on the action that had saved Steve, use it to remember himself, better himself, and it had been hard, but then Clint had come along and somehow, sometimes, it had been easier.

But that didn’t mean he was ready to face Steve again. But he’d decided to do it anyway because, if left to him, when would he  _ ever  _ be?

Steve had, thankfully, kept things light on the plane. There’d been a bone crushing hug that had felt better than Bucky had expected - he’d almost melted into Steve from it - and there’d been naked emotion on Steves’s face too -  _ so much joy! _ Much more than Bucky had felt had been deserved.

Steve Rogers forgave too easily, in Bucky’s opinion. Steve - and Clint, for that matter - would argue that, so Bucky didn’t mention it.

Clint had been subdued as he’d followed them aboard, and Bucky still couldn’t figure out what was going on there. Clint was filled with sadness, nervousness and resignation, though there’d been a spark of welcome happiness when his eyes had fallen on Steve. It was quickly obvious Clint meant to give them space and Bucky had worried what that would mean when they reached the tower.

Steve had done most of the talking on the flight while Bucky listened and Clint slept. Mostly, it was about what to expect at the tower, who Bucky would meet and where he could stay.

“Tony’s set aside space for you, if you want it, if you’d prefer more privacy, but me and Sam have a spare room too  _ and  _ an extra bathroom or two. You’re welcome there, if you don’t mind sharing again. You’d still have your own space if you did,” Steve had hurried to assure him. “I swear Buck, just  _ one _ of those rooms is bigger than any place we ever lived. You can still have your privacy, if you want it. Your choice.”

His choice.

And even just a few months ago, that simple choice would have been too much, too paralyzing, but time to heal - and Clint - had helped Bucky in that.

So he’d chosen to stay with Steve and his soulmate - Steve blushing when he told Bucky all about him. Clint had continued to sleep on as Steve went through all the occupants of the tower he might meet. Sam was only the most important, as Steve's soulmate. Then Tony, who Bucky honestly was most worried about meeting - he’d remembered what he’d done, after all, and Steve might be forgiving, but this Tony, well, maybe not so much - then Natasha, who he’d heard about from Clint and had seemed vaguely familiar.

These he’d meet first, Steve had said, and later there would be others: Pepper, Thor and Bruce, Rhodey, Scott, Jane, Darcy and - the names had started to swim together and Bucky had held up a hand and Steve, thankfully, had stopped.

Steve, Bucky was happy to see, was just as eager to convince Clint to stay at the tower as Bucky was, though Bucky suspected that was more because _ Bucky _ wanted it than anything else.

He was okay with that, and was greatly relieved when Clint agreed. 

Then they were landing, and there were two people waiting for them when they disembarked. He’d expected Tony, since it was his building, his plane. But he quickly recognized them as Sam and Natasha - the latter far, far too familiar except that he still couldn’t put his finger on where he knew her from (And he wasn't sure he wanted to). 

She nodded warily at Bucky before beelining towards Clint, leaving Steve to drag Bucky straight towards Sam.

Meeting Sam should have been awkward, what with Bucky remembering the first impression he would have left Sam with; like how he’d ripped a steering wheel out of Sam’s hands while in a moving vehicle, and then later he’d torn off Sam’s wing and kicked him off the side of the ship - but most of all, because he was Steve’s soulmate and probably, if he had any sense, hated Bucky for almost killing Steve.

But as Clint hugged Natasha before walking away with her, Sam simply smiled and extended his hand.

“No hard feelings man,” Sam said. “But now that you’re you again, you pull any of that shit again, and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky said solemnly. “And if you break Steve’s heart, I’ll tear off the other wing.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, okay, I like him. Figured I would if he was able to put up with  _ your _ stubborn ass all those years,” he said, looking at Steve. 

Steve blushed. “Why does everyone say I’m stubborn?”

“Because we  _ know  _ you,” Bucky said, his eyes meeting Sam’s as the words were said in unison.

Bucky felt a little lighter as he followed along behind Steve into the tower. Steve took his luggage, though Bucky kept hold of his backpack, though Sam had offered to help with that too. He had too many precious things there, now, and he still wasn’t sure  _ how  _ that had happened. 

Taking an elevator, they were in Steve and Sam’s apartments in a near instant, Steve showing him about while Bucky shook his head in disbelief.

There would be no issue with privacy, that was for sure, unless Steve deliberately invaded it.

Eventually, he was shown to his room where he was able to put away his meager possessions, Steve leaving him be for that bit. The room was big enough that even after placing all his books on a set of bookshelves - with one shelf dedicated to just his journals - and hung his jacket and all his clothes, it still felt far too empty.

There was a knock on the open door and he turned to see Steve leaning on the doorframe. “How’s it feel?”

Bucky looked around the space, and immediately thought of the places he’d been sharing recently with Clint, how they were neither of them messy, neither of them spread out, and yet they were both so obviously occupying the same space. This was the farthest he’d been from Clint in ages and he suddenly didn’t like it.

“Lonely,” he said, unthinkingly. He sat heavily on the foot of his bed and buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking up at Steve. 

“Sam’s your soulmate,” Bucky said softly. Steve nodded slowly. “Even though… even though you were born long before  _ he _ was born. I didn’t know that was possible. I thought… I was... glitching.” He winced at the word, because it was what the HYDRA techs said whenever he showed a modicum of thought.

“Buck?” Steve asked, moving into the room and crouching in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“If it’s possible for you to still have a soulmate…” Bucky measured the words carefully in his mouth before pushing them out. “Is it possible to have a one sided soulmate?”

Steve let out a soft sound of realization and his eyes went wide and sad. “Clint?”

Bucky nodded jerkingly. “I can feel him, Steve, all the time. Even now. But he’s never said a word. I think… I think I’m still broken.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said, his voice choked. He reached for Bucky and Bucky let him, dropping his head into Steve's shoulders and leaned on  _ him  _ for maybe the second or third time in his life.

* * *

Bucky settled in far quicker than he’d expected, other than missing Clint like the devil. Not that he didn’t get to see Clint, but it wasn’t as  _ simple  _ as it had been before. And Clint was dancing around something, which put Bucky on edge because he just wanted to take Clint’s hand in his and do some  _ real  _ dancing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been.

At least he was spared any big gathering for several days, but it couldn’t be put off forever and eventually a team dinner was called.

Team dinner consisted of all the people he knew already - Steve, Sam, Clint and (barely) Natasha, plus his host, Tony, and Tony’s partners - Pepper and Rhodey. Thor was, apparently, an alien, and communication with Asgard was a little iffy, so they weren’t sure if he’d show, but Bruce - the only other resident Avenger Bucky hadn’t yet met -  _ was  _ around, so he would probably be there too.

8 people. Not counting himself (and he didn’t).

He could do 8 people.

* * *

He could  _ not  _ do 8 people.

Bucky barely lasted through dinner before he fled back towards Sam and Steve's floor. Tony was loud, brash, never stopped talking, and Bucky had a pretty damn good feeling the behavior was because of him, that he made Tony anxious, upset. He couldn’t blame him, but it was too much to take, especially as - by the time the meal was finishing up - Thor  _ had  _ arrived and he was so much  _ louder _ that Bucky was getting a headache.

The elevator door opened and he slipped inside, dropping his head against the cool metal wall. The door started to hiss shut and then there was a swish of clothes, a quiet step and Clint was beside him.

“He means well,” Clint said, leaning against the wall next to Bucky, but not touching. “But Tony’s a bit much for most people. Him and Steve had a real hard time adjusting to each other in the beginning, if that makes you feel any better.”

Bucky grunted.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t make me feel much better either. But at least you missed the fighting and all the alpha posturing. It’s mostly for show, though. I mean, with Tony. he’d much rather be building stuff, but he’s… been expected to behave a certain way and it’s… kind of his armor.”

Bucky shifted to face Clint, eyes narrowing a bit. “How do you know all this?”

Clint shrugged. “I  _ was  _ a spy, and I'm still best friends with the best spy the world will ever see. And through her, I've been around the team and seen them in ways most people really never will. You pick up a few things, eventually.”

The doors to the elevator opened and Bucky moved to step off, then paused. He looked back at Clint. “Uh, do you want… some coffee?”

“Do I ever!” Clint said, beaming at Bucky so strongly he didn't need to feel Clint’s emotions. But he did, anyway, and it went a long way towards easing the burgeoning headache away .


	5. Clint (And Bonus Scene - Steve)

Bucky was sketching in one of those journals of his when Clint hit the common room. Every set of apartments had its own kitchen, but Clint and Bucky, by some unspoken agreement, gravitated towards the common one. Clint was sure Bucky did it because he wanted to give Steve and Sam more space. Clint did it because, well, because Bucky did.

And because he couldn’t take the knowing and pointed looks from Tasha anymore.

She was of the opinion that he was being a coward, as he still hadn’t mentioned a word to Bucky about possibly dating.

_ Not a coward, _ Clint thought to himself. He wasn’t. Honestly. He was… just looking for some signs that Bucky was okay with this, with being courted by Clint, specifically.

Dropping down into a chair at the table beside Bucky, Clint slumped over a bowl of cereal. He could practically  _ feel  _ the concentration flowing of Bucky as he sketched. Clint repressed the urge to bump his shoulder with Bucky’s, not wanting to disturb the process, but his curiosity was high.

“You’re always sketching in there,” he mused around a mouth full of cereal. “I thought you said Steve was the artist?”

“He is,” Bucky said. “But I guess we spent so much time together growing up, some of it’s rubbed off on me. Not as good as he is but…” He bit his lip, giving Clint a strange look, but then he did something he hadn’t let Clint do yet - he slid the book over so he could see. “What do you think?”

Clint leaned over, careful not to dribble milk on Bucky’s hard work. “Hey, that’s not bad. Way better than me - wait…” Clint squinted at the picture and froze. It was a picture of a tree, with a tire swing attached to a sagging branch. Behind it were hints of a house, old, 2 stories, with broken shutters.

He’d told Bucky a little bit about his past, being in the circus, the foster homes. But he hadn’t told him anything about  _ before,  _ definitely not enough to have extrapolated  _ this  _ image. Because it wasn’t just any old tree. It was rendered well enough that Clint could recognize every twisting branch, every knot, the spot he’d used to boost himself up when he was climbing because he couldn’t quite reach the next branch. He’d climbed it often, an escape, a hiding place away from his father’s anger. Clint had always been rather nimble.

“Bucky - how did -” Clint choked. His fingers were trembling, itching to turn the pages, see what else Bucky had sketched.

“Clint? What’s wrong?”

“I…” Clint’s head was buzzing. “Can I - “ he gestured at the pages.

There was a short silence, then a quiet  _ yeah _ . He flipped the pages backwards, stopping at every picture. Some were simply of the places they’d been together, of things they had seen. A mug here, a pastry, a railing. Flowers and curving stairs. Statues - Clint was sure he recognized that one from the garden they’d gone to that last day. The sketches weren’t polished, but they were recognizable.

And nestled in those sketches, were bits and pieces of  _ Clint’s memories.  _ The big top, with a mended tear. A purple outfit which - yes, he’d admitted to Bucky he’d worn one, but he hadn’t detailed the design that sequins had made, or the darker purple stripes and where they’d been placed, and yet there they were. That little purple elephant from his mom with the daisies on its ear and tummy that he hadn’t seen in… in...

“Bucky, these are… how do you have... ?” he finally looked up to see Bucky hunched over, looking guilty. “Bucky?”

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to invade your privacy, to… get into your head,” he said quietly, earnestness and guilt pouring off him in waves. And… Clint could almost taste fear, too.

“Bucky, I'm not mad, just confused. _ How? _ ”

Looking away from Clint, Bucky shrugged. “I see them. Not so clear at first, but…”

A chill ran down Clint’s spine. No, it wasn’t possible…

Was it?

He’d been having flashes from Bucky’s life, but Clint had a pretty good imagination too, and Bucky had told him stories. He’d seen the reels, and the history book photographs, enough to extrapolate things but…

Maybe he hadn’t been extrapolating?

Clint reached for Bucky, pulled back a little then reached forward again, his hand hovering over Bucky’s hand. He never touched Bucky without permission, without telegraphing it, and never skin to skin, and maybe that was part of the problem. 

Bucky stilled, then looked up at Clint with hope in his eyes and gave him a little nod, his hair falling back to reveal his face.

Their hands touched - 

And it was like everything exploded into being. Things that had teased on the edge of Clint’s consciousness for ages became _more_ and he wondered - how did I miss this?

_ Are we - _ Clint thought.

_ Soulmates? _ Bucky’s thought finished.  _ I think so, yes. _

Clint felt unbridled happiness fill him, because he’d been resigned to never getting this with Bucky, but then… if they were soulmates, why hadn’t Bucky said anything?

_ Is that okay?  _ Clint wondered.

_ Perfect,  _ Bucky answered. And Clint couldn’t help the preen, knowing Bucky thought being soulmates with him was  _ perfect,  _ but he was still confused -

“Why didn't you say anything?” Clint asked. “Did you know?”

Bucky shook his head, and the feeling of sheepishness came over Clint that he instantly knew wasn’t his. “I thought I was broken, making a connection where there wasn’t one. You didn’t seem to react.”

“Apparently,” Clint said dryly, watching his thumb caressing Bucky’s hand. Bucky twisted so that their fingers joined and Clint felt giddy with it. “I’m just oblivious as all hell. Plus, I’d made the assumption that Steve and you were soulmates so I just… dismissed anything odd as wishful thinking, I think.”

“I’m glad you stayed,” Bucky said softly. “I’m glad this is real and I’m not… crazy. Though I’m sorry if you have to see the things I’ve seen.”

“I’m sorry you had to see some of mine,” Clint said, the image of his father surfacing briefly before he forced it back down. He chuckled.  _ Might take me awhile to get the hang of this,  _ he thought to Bucky.

“That’s okay, we’ll work on it together,” Bucky said.

Clint stared at him in awe, the moment so soft, so  _ perfect,  _ so _ everything -  _

And then -

“Also, me and Steve? Ewwww… ”  _ That’d be like you and Natasha,  _ Bucky sent the thought out. Bucky made a face and Clint fell into him, laughing. Cause, yes, ew indeed.

Though, if there were ever a thing as platonic soulmates, he was sure Natasha was his and Steve was Bucky’s.

* * *

#  BONUS SCENE -  STEVE 

* * *

“But Bucky, you only just  _ got  _ here!” Steve said, feeling panic hit him as he watched Bucky methodically repack every book, every scrap of clothing and then some into his two bags.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he thought it was Sam, at first, responding to the panic, but then Clint squeezed past him with a congenial pat to his shoulder. 

“Tony says we’re all set,” Clint said, smiling excitedly. Bucky paused to stare back with his own, dopey smile. “We can grab my stuff after.”

“Wait… what’s going on?” Steve asked, confusion edging the panic out.

Bucky looked over at Steve and his face suddenly was so uncertain that Steve felt guilty about it but, no, wait, he wanted to know what was going on! Why was Bucky leaving?

“Hey, hey punk, I ain’t going far. It just turns out, I’m going to need a little more privacy than I thought, and uh,” Bucky paused, blushing, eyes darting to Clint who was standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and rocking back on his heels with a beaming smile on his face and - 

Oh!

“Oh!” Steve blurted. “Oh! You and Clint?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly, and his eyes were now searching, worried as they looked at Steve, waiting for… for what? He cast his eyes over to Clint and saw that he was now looking at Steve with worried expectation.

“Well,” Steve said, clearing his throat. relief filled him as he realized that not only was Bucky  _ not  _ going anywhere, but he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d gotten his soulmate. “Here, let me help.” 

He darted out, then back with another suitcase. “You’ve picked up a few things, might need an extra hand.”

And then he had an armful of Bucky, hugging him. “Thanks, punk.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and squeezed him gently. “I’m so happy for you, Buck. You deserve happiness, and Clint’s a good guy.”

He watched Clint blush and rub at the back of his neck with a sheepish little smile. One thing Steve had learned was that Clint was unused to compliments or praise of any kind.

At any rate, Steve’s approval, it seemed, was what Bucky had been waiting for. He pulled away and all worry was gone, just pure happiness.

Sam finally arrived, all out of breath, just as Steve returned to his now empty apartment.

“What happened?” Sam demanded.

Steve melted into Sam’s embrace. “Nothing, everythings good now,” Steve said, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I posted anything, it feels like, so I decided to just toss this whole thing up at once. honestly, it's short enough i wouldn't have even broken it up, except it bounced from POV to POV and i prefer, when possible, breaking chapters by POV to keep it from being too disjointed. (yes, i know, that doesn't always work out)
> 
> also, if i missed any tags, please let me know!
> 
> [Rebloggable Tumblr Link](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/644254589525409792/finding-me-and-you-along-the-way-marvel-canon)


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